Final Post of the Series - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 71

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 70 - July 3, 2026

Apologies from me have been long overdue. So many worked hard on my behalf making American Rehab Charleston and then Restoring Charleston. I wanted to do better, to be better, and was far too short-sited on the ways things would play out. As I’ve mentioned, despite how I may have appeared within each series, I am aware than I was out of my depth in these circumstances, and for that I am sorry, for both myself and others. The most recent posts were intended to recognize efforts of the key construction protagonists who made me look capable and competent throughout ARC and RC, as I was actually struggling to keep my head above water for most of this experience.

On the production side, diligence on the part of producers gave me a shine that only they were capable of doing. For example, at times, it seems as if they often had me wearing blue to make my eyes grab attention, perhaps distracting from my asymmetrical mug. They kept me focused by scripting much of what they needed me to say, and this took a toll on all of us. Remaining patient with me throughout could not have been easy. The teams of people that had come to record me in action were used to working with pros, some trained, others naturally gifted. Although I showed up, put in time as asked, I was just unable to deliver on camera as they needed.

There were many times when I would say something in a filming, almost as producer’s would have liked, only to have an auditory hiccup make what I’d said unacceptable. Maybe some people can just rewind and say what they’d just said over again verbatim. But I never got there. At least not as easily as most would have liked and my efforts led to a stuttering issue, something that I’d never had to deal with before. I’m not sure how this Porky Piggishness works. Maybe it was my brain and mouth in some sort of conflict over pressurized calls to speak with so many listening. I had bright moments, but the skips in speech increased over time. This oratory accessory was not permanent though, and eventually faded away sometime before the pandemic, as casually as it had waltzed in.

I’m mentioning this as a lead in to talking about my appreciation for the show producers. I still don’t hold much confidence in the dos and don’ts of the television industry. I felt like I did a lot more incorrect than I did right in working with them and I continue to be uncertain of many things, off camera and on. I do candidly have serious concerns that more than a few might see my doing this—mentioning names without role/contribution precision—as further examples of my flaws and unworthiness. However overblown this may be in my head, I am using it as an explanation for not mentioning the champions on the production side by name.

Enough of the pity party though.

 

Within my dive into TV, I felt the red-hot desire to hit home runs on camera for the teams around me. And through this, opinions were naturally formed about addictions taking root for those desperately trying to deliver for people supporting and pouring into them. However, other than high doses of caffeine, I am able to report that I remained drug free for the duration and aftermath of this TV foray. And there are those you will see this position as one more issue.

Regarding my verbal fumbling and stumbling on camera, that was pureness. No cue cards or teleprompters were used in the making of either series, not by this guy or anyone else, never in the three years. Producers and I ground it out painfully together, from the pilot to the final day of RC. No shade cast toward newscasters, SNLers, or others. I’m envious, wondering if I could have even pulled off using those sorts of aids.

I worked with at least four different production companies. And I’m still foggy about who worked for which, those serving as independent contractors, members of the interior design teams vs. production, and on and on. I will say that of the things we really needed going into making Restoring Charleston in 2016, the one addressed was the experience of the production crew that the network executives were able to surround me with. In lieu of reality show backgrounds, we had producers more seasoned in home renovating. Maybe not condemned houses, but highly applicable knowledge and that was critical in us all working together to meet the tight schedule requirements.

As I touched on in a previous post, settling in down on the region’s historic peninsula for three months is a major expense for anyone. But along with this, was the cost of time and the extra wear and tear this choice placed on the production team. Without traffic, St. George is an hour from Charleston. But coming and going Monday through Friday, getting vehicles from parking garages, etc. and then dealing with rush hour traffic equated to nearly three hours of stressful commute adding in to each long workday.

It must have been thrilling to stay downtown. And crews were troopers about any supplemental burden this created. However, it couldn’t have been easy. And as I mentioned before, I should have suggested they stay somewhere closer. Easier scoots back and forth on I-95, like coastal situations on Lake Marion, would have done the trick. Then they could have escaped each weekend to the Holy City for R&R. Budget wise, this would have been best. But being candid, I was oblivious to much of this until afterwards. That’s on me and another thing I have regrets over.  

In 2016, my imagined adversarial presence with producers seemed to evaporate and I was included more into the circle of collaboration. This was not just helpful to me, but it made the summer more enjoyable, and in my view, it led to greater productivity. Over the course of three months, I learned to really appreciate while simultaneously trust the producers. These days working and filming throughout Berchador and I am unable to say enough hearty things about this crew I still feel blessed to have gotten to work with. I may be wrong, but I think they’re the blend of a team that could pick up next week where we left off a decade ago, the production/construction combo working together on opposite ends of St. George through triple digit heat.

With this appreciation for the teamwork and natural comradery we developed, I am also wholeheartedly grateful for several crucial producers who looked out for me. They advised and mentored me discreetly, pulling me aside as needed, whispering in my ears like veteran teammates or wise older siblings. I listened and it was life altering advice I’ll likely never be able to appropriately repay them for. In some perilous ways, these strangers who’d quickly grown into confidants and friends, also served as my guardians, saving my family from what I came to realize would have likely been devastating missteps on my part. Although I would like to mention these folks, as much or more than the contractors, they very specifically advised me that their anonymity was paramount for their own careers. I see this as cloak and dagger means and methods of thoughtfulness. So, for them in particular, I’m obliged to write of my nonspecific gratitude. You know who you are and I am forever appreciative beyond my words.  

Throughout this experience, I had perhaps been too overly focused on the boatloads of positives. Many can say I was naïve and too trusting. And yet I survived. We survived. And the shows are still out there getting attention. Could it have been better? Clearly, yes. But could it have been worse? Absolutely.      

I caught a shooting star in one hand and then was pulled and pushed out of the path of an erratic rolling boulder. And for both of these, I’ll always be indebted.

FINAL POST OF SERIES

The Gray-Haired Golden Rule - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 67

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 66 - June 24, 2026

The start of this blog in 2011, aimed for something of a how-to tone, sharing advice and writing the steps to help aspiring DIYers progress through their own rehabs. Yet with the reflective storytelling, it’s understandable how some may consider it memoirish or a hybrid how-to/memoir. And this whole series is closer to the second of the two genres.

This post is more than a response to questions or comments. It’s backstory worth sharing as I conclude with cheerful memories making Restoring Charleston.

 

The Golden Rule is a universal beacon for civility: treat others the way you want to be treated. The Gray-Haired Golden Rule, is this guidance with a twist: treat seniors as you’d want someone to treat your own grandparents. And if you don’t have solid relationships with your elders, Lord watch out for the silver headed nearby.

In 1994, I moved into a Cincinnati apartment managed by a widow who was spread thin and beginning to fray. Oversights and reasonable lapses led tenants of this twenty-unit building to move out. However, I stayed. And by year’s end, it was down to just us in this three-story brick in Hyde Park.

Rather than virtuousness, my hanging in there was rooted in my grandparents and this landlady reminding me of them. Perhaps it was because her life had mirrored theirs—the Great Depression, Pearl Harbor leading to WWII, followed by the post-war boom, space race, and the seventies. For the lack of a better way of describing it, what loomed was some hazy obligation to help her as I would want someone to be there for my own elderly relatives.

After becoming disoriented out and about in the Queen City, this childless woman found herself at The Christ Hospital. She had no family in the area, and it had taken me two weeks to figure out where she was. Due to cautionary abundance wrapped in legal reasons beyond me, TCH staff was obligated to detain her.

It eventually became clearer how this would culminate in her becoming a ward of the state, whatever that may have meant. After I tiptoed around this news, she revealed how she was well aware. “I know what they’re saying, young man,” was her reply.   

Mrs. Drollinger never said my name, and young man registered with my ears like an accepted nickname that she used at her convenience.

She understood the future she might be faced with but wasn’t having it. Even though it appeared as if her fate was sealed, she then set me straight as she grabbed a phone and opened up the yellow pages. “Where there’s a will there’s a way,” she said before adding, “And I’m getting out of here.”

Then against some tall odds this detainee proved the hospital know-it-alls wrong and found a way to be discharged.

Five years later, after buying a condemned house that I was determined to rehabilitate, inspiration was drawn from this triumphant pathfinder from my past. And when construction authorities explained how bringing on a full-time GC was paramount, her words echoed in my head. When some said the smoke smell was unconquerable, I remembered her resolve. When the twelve-month schedule was deemed inadequate, I reminded myself that “where there’s a will there’s a way.”

And just like how it worked out with the hospital forecasters, the construction expert’s pre-determinations were sidestepped.

What would eventually inspire me to find a way of reconnecting her with distant family living in Oklahoma, was an oven fire in her apartment. My first attempts to put it out with my pintsized extinguisher didn’t work and the 9-11 operator dispatched the emergency brigade. Then, after persuading this septuagenarian to step outside, the army of responders flooded Linshaw Court as we walked out the front entrance.  

Although the flames had been snuffed out—the third time had been the charm for my extinguisher—they’d come prepared for the worst. Besides the hook and ladder truck, there was the fire chief, an ambulance, and a couple other red vehicles.

The building’s owner was genuinely amazed. And naturally, passively, she simply asked to herself more than me, yet aloud, “Is all this for me?”    

 

We were just into the first summer week of 2016 and I was filled with intense excitement, nervousness, and a healthy anxiety that would keep me necessarily focused until the circumstances wrapped in August. The production phase, the process of filming the projects for Restoring Charleston, had begun in the small southern town of St. George.

The Appleby House sat on the edge of town and had been vacant for fifty years before being condemned by local building officials. At least, that’s what I’d been told and everything pointed to this being true. Following an invitation to have a look, I took a chance and became the owner. The windows and doors were still partially boarded up, and I was likely a schoolboy the last time the wood siding or trim had been painted.

Appleby - Before

After thorough reviews, I felt at ease about structural integrity. It looked decidedly worse than it actually was, my type of project house for sure and ideal for a TV rehab.

Built circa 1895, this home had been crafted by skilled tradesmen of its era, surviving over a century of scorching summers and countless hurricanes while racking up more years than anyone still alive. It was laced with artful interior trim, mantels, and doors that were salvageable, with heart pine floors to accompany bead board walls and ceilings.

Occupied by spiders, dead rodents, and one mummified cat, it was a prime candidate for generating Halloween season unease. Although some locals were convinced that this place was inhabited by ghosts, I’d been all through the home, alone multiple times with only a flashlight keeping me company. I felt no creepy vibes nor heard any questionable noises. Nothing had given me serious pause.

In the early days of getting up to speed with the task at hand, producers had been overheard speculating on Appleby as the most challenging rehab effort in the network’s history. This may have been a stretch, but still, it made me feel good, this possibility of being placed atop this unofficial mountaintop.

Coupled with my faith, what allowed me to be worry-free in that moment, was my confidence in the pros mobilizing around me. But being straightforward, fair to myself, I’d taken on more awful with much less help. It was simply a great old home, with palpable potential, and too special to ignore. By way of the pictures I’d taken and emailed, the producers in New York and Los Angeles had fallen for it too.

In this first week, the site was humming with grips and assistants busy setting up cameras and equipment. There were production crews staffed by people from all over the country, along with dozens of local contractors, tradespeople, and an interior design team. A production trailer had landed in a back corner of this parcel, strategically placed to be out of site throughout filming. A large storage container for equipment, supplies, fixtures, and materials was behind the office box. Dumpsters, work trucks, and trailers filled the fringes of our lot. The planted cotton field directly behind us was off-limits, but vehicles had spilled over into the vacant area across the street. Icing on this cake was an air-conditioned restroom trailer—one side for women, the other for men—tucked within an enormous cluster of towering azaleas. In three decades, I had no memory of any jobsite perk topping this.

In addition, were the two other houses on the opposite side of town. This St. Geo trio had been acquired to revive this summer, yet we were only rehabbing and filming two of these three simultaneously. Without a doubt, it would be my greatest professional challenge yet. The third home had been placed on the back burner. Along with apologies, were network assurances of them returning next year to be part of its rebirth.

This bustling scene was radically different from my first pig’s ears in the early years of the new millennium. Suddenly, from some dusty corner of my mind, a question leaked out, “Is all this for me?”

More than a case of me hearing voices, it was a spewed memory in the form of a rhetorical question. Insinuations of unworthiness were absent here, with me willing to believe that travels on the road to this point had made me deserving.

Then this internal monologue was interrupted. The sound of cheerleaders practicing on the other side of the street busted through the usual cacophony of jobsite activity—barking and banter, tools banging, equipment revving. These peppy teenagers were likely hoping to witness some filming or perhaps even get captured on camera.

The atmosphere was circus-like.

“Is all this for me?” Those were the words spoken by my landlady years back as we emerged from the smoke-filled building as vehicles of the rescue fleet took positions in front of our near-empty building.

Now, it was as if she was pridefully haunting me, like a fifth grandparent.

Mrs. Drollinger had been amazed then, just as I was in that moment looking over the energized scene. It was radically unlike my history of solitude on desolate house projects in my rearview, years of long days spent alone, thinking things through by myself. I knew that with all the support, the upcoming months would be comparably different than those early unwanted home restorations; teams and crews tackling the lion’s shares of the work as production assistants brought me coffee, offered water, or took my lunch order each day in between direction and questions with cameras recording.

Appleby - After

I was filled with awe and appreciation, imagining five satisfied faces sitting in the bleachers of heaven, giving me an extra reason to smile as I put forth my best efforts to deliver for producers.

Was all that for me?

My people would answer yes.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 68 - June 29, 2026

Queries Which Deserve Decent Answers - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 66

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 65 - June 22, 2026

It’s understandable for people to watch the show and then send notes with questions or pointed remarks:

“If you’re a historic restoration expert, then why would you do a, b, and c instead of x, y, and z?”

I can easily follow that sort of head scratching.  

“Why is the show called American Rehab Charleston instead of ‘American Rehab Summerville?’ Don’t you like Summerville? We think it’s wonderful. What’s your problem?”

“Why is the second one Restoring Charleston? St. George ain’t Charleston.”

That feedback also tracks.

I can apologize for the decisions, any confusion or discontent these choices have caused. I don’t have any hesitations over explaining how I’m not an expert as they’ve read, as I’m described throughout both series. I’ve never said that about myself nor did I talk this over with producers. Rather than calculated deception though, I think some on the production side see me in a more glorified posture than I deserve.

Also, even though I can try to shed some light on program creators using Charleston in the titles, it oftentimes seems to ring hollow, feel like it’s not enough, perhaps due to me not being part of the verdicts on show naming.

People have invested a lot of time watching the shows, sometimes all fourteen episodes more than once. Then they’ve found a way to reach out to me, thought out what they wanted to say or ask, and hit send. Ignoring them may seem optional, but I’m inclined to do something when I can. Now, I haven’t typically stepped in when people have vented online, but I’ve read enough comments to gauge opinions, and diverted those responses to this series.

In 2014, after committing to a four-episode series about my house project in Summerville, the production company downgraded this opportunity to one pilot episode with a chance for a full season. To the surprise of many, we were granted the unexpected, along with a two-episode bonus. Even more shocking, was that ARC rated well enough for us to earn a chance to keep going, to renovate three more houses with film crews in 2016.      

Although an actual series being shown occasionally on DIY and a verbal agreement to do more was wonderful, it had not been enough to secure the financing I needed to buy three houses in Charleston. Perhaps my appeals to producers for necessary steps went unrealized because it was the end of the year, the holiday season, and decision makers in New York were focused on more important projects.  

Without a valid written commitment, or perhaps a letter of intent, financing for the three houses on the historic peninsula, what it seemed like everyone, including me, really wanted, were out of my financial reach. Even though I was willing to take chances that hinged on over-the-phone directives, bank officials had boxes that needed checked, and written specifics was early in the approval process.

Their preliminary questions were basic:

“What if the producers don’t actually come back?”

“What if they decide not to do all three houses?”

“What if they put you off for a year, like they did before?”

This seven-figure financing, my efforts to form the short-term partnership with lenders, was another test and I did not score high marks. Getting written details from the networks was not an outlandish request. And yet I couldn’t get that done. Not only did my willingness to move forward without a contract make the arrangement appear questionable, but it also made my professional judgement suspect.   

And still, my faith more than solid business acumen, allowed me to roll the dice and tap into my own reserves.

After unsuccessful property searching in Summerville, I eventually found three of my sorts of houses—vacant/condemned/seemingly unwanted—in St. George, pig’s ears I could buy with a combination of cash and a negotiated agreement with one of the groups of sellers. Diann had seen the lights, cameras, and activity, and she was in my corner, unwavering. She wasn’t pushing me on yet was staunchly supportive in this gamble.

But then, bank official’s concerns became a reality: the network cut our episodes from twelve to eight and three houses down to two. Although this was still an amazing blessing, it was unfortunate. Even though I extended my trust to Team Scripps, the financiers had known not to, exemplifying why they were sentries of the safes with the money. It stood to reason, that besides not wanting me to default on loans, they likely were trained to avoid involvement with that sort of mis-stepping    

I hope this post goes further to answer curious questions of some viewers.

I can now see the runway approaching this series’ end. And I’ll be wrapping on a decidedly upbeat note, sharing fond memories of making Restoring Charleston.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 67 - June 26, 2026 

Home Rehab TV Production Budget Stretching - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 51

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 50 - May 20, 2026

Most people would probably prefer to avoid unfairness or mistakes that come from not knowing. My writing about the larger story around making American Rehab Charleston is to help the curious and the ambitious.

The production company, I think more than HGTV and DIY, had a really difficult time filming and producing both the pilot and the five-episode pickup. I have openly admitted and explained how I failed to put nuts and bolts specifics on paper, documentation that could have served to lead and chart a path forward when we were first awarded the series in 2013. That would have made a significant difference for everyone here, Minneapolis, LA, and NYC, perhaps maybe even folks beginning to work out of Tennessee. However, other things like local geography and timing were out of my reach and it’s unhelpful for me to shoulder culpability for things beyond and above.

And by pointing them out, others can learn from what happened, think on it, and maybe apply it to their own efforts, in TV or otherwise.

In order to better understand what went on with me, us, my family and I and the many people working on American Rehab Charleston, you really should look past any ripple effect caused by Nicole Curtis and Rehab Addict moving on to another production company. It will help to put yourself in the shoes of the production company in Minnesota though.

Minneapolis is over 1,300 miles from Charleston. That’s two really long days of driving from there to here and then another forty-eight at the end. Much of the crew flew, travel expenses baked into the budget, but folks also had to truck equipment from there to down here, compensated for this haul and armed with a gas card to use along the way.

This is a radical change from creating and producing a show like Rehab Addict, something that was in producer’s backyard.

With a show filmed in the Twin Cities region, crew members could come and go each day. Sleep in their own beds. Eat breakfast and dinner at their kitchen tables. Work out of offices where costs were spread across many projects.

But being here, so far away, they needed per diems for hotels and restaurants, along with office space to operate out of. We’re talking over a dozen people, and not just Monday through Friday. They were dug in for three long months. Those expenses added up quickly, substantially.

Up in the land of the lakes, if there wasn’t a lot going on for days or weeks on Nicole’s project houses, they could shift their focuses to other things, until the foundation was rebuilt or rough-in scopes passed inspections. But being here, far from home, every minute of every day counted. High paid producers couldn’t just stand around like flamingos in a lagoon. Filming had to be done. Now, I must say, it was a lot of fun be-bopping around Berchador, filming beats with vendors and fabricators. I think I was quoted in one paper as saying I had “the time of my life.” But those talking points were costly, and some might say the juice wasn’t worth all the squeezing. And yet, they were here, had to keep busy, and be paid for this time.

Certainly, I now understand how we could have filmed some demo in March with the pilot, and then a few days here and there for reframing, rough-in, insulation and drywall in the months between spring 2014 and January 2015. That would have saved tons of money. In my opinion, viewers want to see before shots, the ugly, then some of the tedium in the middle, but interest lies mostly on the fresh, bright, colorful after scenes at the end. How much do viewers really want or need to see of the early boring scopes? Not much. So having all those gifted, high dollar people in town and on site too early on was a huge waste of money.

Also, producers agree to come work in Charleston for several months. They didn’t picture small city Summerville thirty miles away from the sexy trendy historic peninsula. They had expectations of staying in the popular districts. Those are also high priced, sucking construction funding out of the budget.

If I had promised Charleston, I would be apologizing for misleading people. As I’ve said before, I don’t live down there. I never have nor claimed to. I’ve worked and owned property within the Holy City limits, but that’s it. Someone else sold these folks on coming to work in the appreciated city for three months. I can see why they may have felt it was a bait and switch, especially when they were commuting and hour or more back and forth in traffic at the beginning and end of each long workday. I didn’t have to do this driving during this TV season of my life, but I’ve done it, and I can imagine how it wore on these crews.

Now, here’s where I could have served them better. Not that this would have been heartily considered, but I could have suggested that they only dig in deeply for the finishing phases, Plus, I could have tried to help them understand the value of staying on the outskirts, closer to where the projects were. This thinking would have applied to both shows, American Rehab Charleston, which was filmed in Summerville, and Restoring Charleston which was even further out in St. George. They could have all stayed a shorter drive away, saving time and a whole lot of money that needed for renovations and post-production.

I realize they wanted to enjoy their weekends, and they’d still have been able to. Friday and Saturday nights, maybe even Sunday, could have been spent sleeping over down in the touristy areas instead of burning cash unnecessarily seven days a week. Plus, meals cost more in these popular zones as well. Splurging could have been condensed to forty-eight hours each week, rather than 24/7 for fourteen weeks.

I probably should have found a way to plant this idea, and in this way, I failed the producers who were so unfamiliar with Berchador geography and how it would wreck the budget. They wanted to help me with the renovating, so I should have done a better job helping them save money, which would have made the rest of these difficult assignments easier for them. I didn’t know what I didn’t know about television. And the same applied to them and what they didn’t understand about this tri-county region.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 52 - May 25, 2026

How the House in the Woods became Annie Leila's

     My projects have received names. With each one, the identifying moniker happened naturally. My first pig's ear had been devastated by a dryer fire that grew out of control. When folks would ask me about that project, they'd call it things like, "That house you did that was condemned after the fire." So it became "the Fire House." In 2004, I bought another home that building officials had declared uninhabitable. This rotting place was a victim of Hurricane Hugo that slammed into South Carolina in 1989, and it became my "Hurricane House." With each project came similar stories. Another example is the Country Victorian I bought in 2013 that was in American Rehab Charleston. It was, "The house you fixed up on TV," or the "TV House," until I did Restoring Charleston, and then it became the "American Rehab House." 

    In 2016, I needed three more houses for television. Along with the Appleby House, I bought a nine acre property on the other side of St. George with two houses: a bridal cabin that producers named the "Lowcountry Cottage" and the home which I called "the House in the Woods." Schedule and budget demands forced us to pull one home from our plans, so when we wrapped up our filming in August, I was left with my current project house shown in the pictures above. It was back off the main street in town and so engulfed by trees, bushes, and vines that many local residents didn't realize there was a home back in there. 

    The county library has a book that documents all the historic houses in area. In this book, the house is tagged as the "Whetsell House," but when neighbors mention the old home, they regularly call it "Annie Leila's House" or more simply "Annie Leila's," a reference to Annie Leila Whetsell, the previous owner who had lived in the house for most of their lives. 

    Annie Leila is a very pretty name. I've never known anyone named Leila and certainly no one named Annie Leila. I liked the name, The House in the Woods, but I like Annie Leila's much more. She called it home for decades and surrounded it with beautiful plants that I now enjoy. The neighborhood is still full of people that Annie Leila called friends and loved like family. So naming the property after her just feels right... and sounds a lot better than "Trent's." :)

FOR SALE - The Appleby House

300 Quaker Road
St. George, SC 29477

Charleston  1 hr. 5 min.
Columbia  1 hr. 10 min.
Savannah, GA  1 hr. 20 min.
Beaufort, SC  1 hr. 10 min.
Edisto Beach  1 hr. 20 min.
Lake Marion 35 min.
Edisto River 20 min.   

Contact Agent:  Troy Phillips

Update:  We sold The Appleby House in August.  We really hoped we'd find owner(s) who appreciated our efforts and we did just that.  We're excited for them to settle in to their new home as well as the special town of St. George.   

TV Show(s) Update

The DIY Network
Wed., Oct. 19th
7-11pm


American Rehab Charleston
7-10pm

Restoring Charleston
10-11pm

We're on the schedule for this Wednesday, October 19th on the DIY Network from 7pm to 11pm.  The first 6 episodes are the re-airing of American Rehab Charleston.  This is the Country Victorian project (also known as The TV House) that originally premiered on August 28, 2014.

The two brand new episodes are premiering as Restoring Charleston.  The first five episodes of this season will be the transformation of The Queen Anne-Craftsman and the concluding three shows will show how we renovated The Newlyweds' Cottage.  

We started the search for these homes last November and worked on both projects this summer.  These were challenging projects, but the homes held so much potential and I'm excited to share what we did and how we did it for everyone starting Wednesday.